Lump In Her Throat
by fanofkdc
Summary: Grissom has to press Catherine for information on a possible health scare for Sara
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: LUMP IN MY THROAT

AUTHOR: fanofkdc

RATING: T (?)

SPOILERS: NONE THAT I CAN THINK OF.

CONTENT: GSR, BIT OF ANGST (HOW UNPREDICTABLE AM I?).

SUMMARY: IT IS LEFT UP TO CATHERINE TO INFORM GRISSOM OF A SITUATION SARA MAY OR MAY NOT BE IN.

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. EXCEPT FOR THE DOCTOR, AND CHARACTERS IN THE HOSPITAL WAITING ROOM.

PART ONE OF TWO (KNOWING ME, I'LL PROBABLY GET CARRIED AWAY).

_Knock knock knock. _"Grissom?"

The night-shift supervisor looked up from an entomology textbook, setting his magnifying lass on the table in front of him. "Sara. What can I do for you?"

Sara stood by the open door, unwilling to proceed any further, as if his office held some kind of red cross on it, like a plague warning, preventing her from entering his domain. "I'm really sorry to bother you," she said. "I can come back later if that's more appropriate."

Grissom frowned, his brows knitting together in concern. "Is something wrong?"

Sara did her utmost to maintain her look of nonchalance. No, I was just wondering if it would be possible for me to take two days off next week." The corners of her mouth moved imperceptably.

"Are you sure nothing's wrong?" The top half of face has compacted so much that it looked quite ready to cave in on itself.

"I'm fine," she said, the words feeling so familiar as they slipped across her tongue, leaving a bitter taste behind. "I just have a hospital appointment, they said I'd need to rest for a day or so before going back work."

If it hadn't already been so, her words piqued interest, and he was glad he'd had his otosclerosis operated on. "And that's routine?"

Sara shrugged. "I don't know. I've never had this particular procedure performed before," she said obliquely.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Will you need someone to accompany you, or take you home?" He folded his big hands on the desk in front of him, twiddling his thumbs rapidly.

"No, it doesn't require any sort of anaesthetic," she answered, completely ignoring his offer of help. He repeated it. "You can give the two days off," Sara said defensively.

Grissom's mouth twitched. "Okay. If there's anything I can do ...".

"Yeah, sure, I'll let you know." Sara turned swiftly, exiting without so much as another glance at her boss.

Grissom and Catherine were alone in the locker room, Catherine pulling on a jacket and getting ready to pick Lindsay up from a sleepover, and Grissom was re-arranging the items in his locker.

"Cath?"

"Hmm?"

"Has Sara spoken to you at all recently?"

"Well, we were working a case today, as you well know," Catherine teased.

"Ha. Were you aware that she is going to require two days off next week for a hospital appointment?"

_Oh, Sara had already spoken to him._ "Why are you telling me? _You're_ the supervisor."

"You're comedic form tonight astounds me," Grissom replied bitterly. "Did you know she had an appointment?"

"Why do you think I'd know? I _do_ know, but why _you_ think I do is beyond me."

Grissom's broad shoulders lifted themselves, and for a second he looked like a puppet that was being teased by whosoever was pulling its strings. "You're both women ...".

"Thank you for noticing."

"And I thought that she might tell you."

"She did."

"So?"

"If she didn't tell you why, then it's not up to me to do so. She has her reasons for not telling you everything."

Intentional or not, Catherine's words stung Grissom's ears. "Is it serious?"

"I don't know." Catherine tried not to look at Gil, whose eyes were penetrating her back.

"I thought you did," he insisted rather desperately.

"I know what's wrong, so to speak, but I don't know if it's serious because _she_ doesn't. That's why she needs two days. The hospital want to run some tests."

Grissom's face was in real danger of being stuck permanently in a look of extreme concern combined with extreme horror. "Why the hell does she needs tests running. Tell me Cath, I'm your boss. Plus, I'm the person who writes your evaluations." On another day, there might have been a trace of humour in his voice, but today, the only thing with which it was inflected was anger and urgency.

Catherine rolled her eyes and sighed. "Okay. But I won't be held responsible for what she does when she finds out you know. If you're my boss, you can pay for my burial."

"What. Is. It?" Grissom growled.

"She found a lump," Catherine replied, her eyes closed, her face screwed up in nervous anticipation.

"You mean, in her breast?"

"No, in her throat you fool. Yes, her breast," Catherine snapped, both eyes flicking open.

Grissom's fae lost all of its colour. "Oh shit," he muttered. Still one moment, his sudden movement to retrieve his phone from his pocket making atherine jump.

"Look, Gil, I'm going to have to go, otherwise Lindsay's going to be wondering where I am. I'm sure everything will be okay," she added, putting a comforting hand on his arm.

Sara pulled her car over into the curb when she heard her phone ring. "Sidle," she answered idly.

"Sara, it's Grissom."

"Oh. Do you need back at the lab? Is there a problem?"

"There's a problem, but it's not do with a case," Grissom snapped.

"What's wrong then?"

"Catherine just told me why you were going to hospital."

Sara's jaw tightened, her mind suddenly racing with thoughts of killing Catherine and dumping the many various body parts into Lake Mead. "She did, did she?"

"I forced her to." _Not entirely true. _"Honey, why didn't you tell me?" His voice softened.

_He only said 'honey' when things were bad. The poor bastard was probably ready to have an aneurysm. _"I didn't want anybody to know. I only told Catherine because I asked her if she had anything similar before, which she hadn't. Besides, I might be okay." She looked out of the car window, car headlights flashing past in the early morning light.

"Nevertheless, why didn't you say something?"

Sara took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to keep a barrage of abuse and insolence in her stomach. "Because I don't need you to get close to me when you think I've got cancer only to turn away and pretend nothing happened when it turns out I'm okay."

_So it was like that._ "I wouldn't do that. I'm just ...".

She heard a sharp intake of breath down the line. "What?"

"Will you come back to the lab? Talk me through it," he explained.

Sara bit back a snort of derision. "It's a damn good thing I only left ten minutes ago. You called any later, I would have told you where to get off."

"I would have come over to yours," came the simple, honest answer, defaced by interference.

Sara could tell Grissom was stressed when she returned to the lab. He was pacing, clenching and unclenching his hands in the endearing way he did when he was walking around, looking for evidence, and his cheeks, once pale, were now flushed.

"Damn it, Griss, sit down," she chided. "Your blood pressure's gonna go through the roof."

He simply looked at her. "So what's going on?"

Sara looked around. "I don't want to talk about here."

Wordlessly, he padded off down the corridor, Sara lagging behind slightly with her insecure gait.

"What's going on?" he repeated. "What happened?"

Sara raised an eyebrow, not of surprise, but simply as a reflex. "I was getting rwady for work the other day, and felt a sensation I don't normally feel there. I checked it, and felt a little lump, so I called the hospital and asked to make an appointment."

"A sensation you never feel, as in, you've _never_ felt it, it doesn't occur near menstruation or anything like that? Do you know ...?"

"I've never felt it before," she replied. "And yes, I do know what my own body feels like, I check every day for anomalies."

"Do you have a history of breast cancer in your family?"

Sara shook her head, amused somewhat at the scientist within Grissom. To her, his interest wasn't concern, but a pure curiosity, as if she had been bagged, tagged, and marked 'exhibit a' for a court case. "They need to do a scan and a punch biopsy, so they told me to just relax afterwards."

Grissom sat in silence, his blue eyes preoccuppied with something beyond both his and her field of vision. Eventually, he looked up, his jaw working side to side, his mouth partly open in the way it always was when something was troubling him, begging his attention. "Would you ... would you like me to come along with you?"

This time, Sara's arching eyebrows were the result of his words. "What?"

"Would you like me to come with you? I know I appreciated Catherine paying me a visit before my ear operation, so I'm extending a courtesy."

"Oh, that's all," Sara answered, slightly disappointed. _That's all I am - something you can help occassionally in order to appease your sense of guilt._

Gil didn't miss what her tone of voice implied. "What if I told you I was concerned about you?"

"I'd tell you that I'd heard those words from you before, but so far, they haven't yielded much hope."

"I'm trying. Damn, give me a chance."

Sara shrugged. "I'm patient. Why do you think I've waited over ten years?" Before he could answer, and she could that he wanted to, as his lips had parted, she spoke. "I'll pick you up and go to the hospital from there."

"But Desert Palm is out your way. Besides, if they're doing a punch biopsy, aren't you going to be in pain? Let me take _you_ to the hospital, then I can drop you off, or stay if you need me to."

Sara regarded the implications of his words, taking them (mentally) in an entirely different context that they were meant. "If it's no trouble."

Grissom attempted a smile. "You may be many things, but trouble isn't one of them," he replied. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah," she said as quickly as possible, not wanting to fill up. "I'll be fine." Again, those loaded words, revealing more than if she had told him that she wasn't fine. Possibly.

"Well, you know where I am if you need to talk," he insisted gently.

"Sure."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO OF TWO, DEDICATED TO MY SMALL, BUT DETERMINED, FANBASE. WHO KNOWS, MAYBE THERE'LL BE ANOTHER CHAPTER. I DON'T ACTUALLY SIT DOWN WITH A SOLID PLAN ON WHAT I'M GOING TO WRITE - I KNOW HOW I WANT THE STORY TO GO, BUT I DON'T MIND WHERE IT GOES BEFORE IT GETS THERE. ENJOY!

Grissom studied Sara's profile as they sat in the hospital waiting room. The atmosphere was as tense as that of the ER room, but without all the chaos. Grissom studied the people scattered about before him, some on their own, some with mothers or fathers or husbands or sons or lovers, and he wondered what people would read into him sitting next Sara. He sneaked another furtive glance at her out the corner of his eye.

"You wanna ask something?" she croaked, her throat dry from not speaking in a while. She leaned back slightly, relieving the pressure on her back that resulted from her hunching forwards. He hands were clasped in front of her, and Grissom had a fleeting recollection of taking her home after the DUI.

"I don't know," he confessed, caught off-guard by her sudden question.

She rolled her eyes, infuriated, but not surprised by his lack of words. Actually, that was inaccurate. He knew what to say. Or, at least, in his _head_, he knew what to say. She could see that when they had her post-PEAP counselling session. He just floundered because he wasn't sure how to word things in a way that wasn't cautious, or measured. "Sure you do. You just don't know how to say it."

Grissom's cheeks flushed slightly at her accurate observation. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous? Anxious? Or maybe I'm secretly pleased that this has happened." Her gaze shifted from her hands to her feet.

"Really?" Again, the biologist, maybe even the anthropologist within Grissom (although she didn't see him ever using _that_ as a career - he may be able to analyse people, but God help him if he were ever in the position to get _close_ to them) reared its head. Again, she got the feeling that she was simply a philosophical puzzle to this man, an enigma to be solved.

Sara raised her eyes to his, challenging him boldly, daring him to want to know the answer, and also knowing that it might just freak him out _ever so slightly._ "The morbid, self-destructive, attention-seeking narcissist within me has surfaced. I can be nice to you, I can touch your cheek, I can put a blanket around your shoulders, I can do any number of things in that same vein for you, but I only really get your attention when you think you might lose me." She paused, studying his expression.

His jaw had tightened, his knuckles too, getting bleached of their colour. It had never occurred to him that it _was_ only when she was in danger or turmoil that she needed him. "The Shelton case? Being insubordinate to Ecklie? Your DUI? The explosion? Now?" Despite his tense exterior, he admirably managed to control his voice.

"My need for you doesn't just switch off when I'm not having any problems," she whispered frankly, eyes darting about the waiting room. _Damn it and hurry up so I can get out of here._

"Yeah, but if there's nothing wrong with you, then I have no excuse to care." Grissom measured his breathing, trying to remain calm, and not get swallowed in the impulse to do something irrational and spontaneous and ...

"You don't _need_ an excuse," she interrupted.

"I do, otherwise any other action on my part could be seen by someone as sexual harassment or inappropriate behaviour. At least no-one will suspect anything if there's a reason behind why I'm so concerned."

"Sara Sidle?" A doctor (dressed in a white coat) stood by the door of the room, holding a clipboard and scanning the patients with eyes looking over the top of her glasses.

Sara nodded and put her hands on her knees, pushing herself up. Just as she went to approach the doctor, Grissom reached out and took her wrist. For a moment, he marvelled at its delicate structure, thin and gentle and vulerable, just like Sara.

"You want me to come in with you?" he asked softly.

"Griss, they're gonna be ... you know ...". She _really_ dind't want to discuss this with Grissom.

"I know," he grinned, then straightened his face. "No, I mean, you want me to hold your hand or anything? In case it hurts," he added quickly.

"I'll be fine."

Sara left the room gingerly, her chest hurting from the needle they had inserted into the soft tissue around her breast. The doctor had assumed that due to its painful nature, the lump was most likely a symptom of mastitis, and her put Sara on medication for the disorder while they waited for the blood results to come back. "I shouldn't worry, Ms Sidle," the white coat had said. "Ninety-nine percent of the time, a painful lump is not cancer, and you don't have a history of it in the genetics, so I'm pretty sure you'll be okay."

Grissom rose to his feet anxiously as Sara came back in. "Is everything okay?" he asked, his brows knitting together, looking all intense and ... Grissom-like.

Sara managed a smile. "Just a bit painful from the needle, the effects last for a day or so. They think it's mastitis, but they still took a blood sample to be on the safe side. I've gotta come back in a week to get my results." They left the building, walking slowly and contemlatively back to Grissom's Denali. "It's okay, now," she said. "Scare's over. You don't need to pay me any attention now," she added, her voice suffused with a hint of bitterness. "I can get a cab back."

"You know I wouldn't let you do that," Grissom commented plainly, holding the passenger door open for her. "I'll stay with you for half an hour or so, just make sure you definitely _are_ okay."

Sara's nostrils flared slightly, not much given how small they were. "I said I'm fine. You can go."

Grissom started the engine, pulling the car into gear with one powerful hand. "And _I _said that I'd stay with you. Besides, we both know you want me to stay. Hell, we both know I _want_ to stay."

Sara's mouth dropped in shock, and a twisted satisfaction, although there was no hint of this on her features. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Shh, we can discuss back at your place. Taking about issues such as this when I'm driving a car probably isn't the best policy for getting from a to b in one piece."

Although Sara's tongue was burning and heaving with so many questions, she restrained herself. She watched as Grissom set himself down on her couch, and it reminded her of last time. _Last time._ "Can I get you a drink?" she asked, managing to shake herself out of her reverie.

Grissom's brow lowered in some sort of amusement. "I don't suppose you have any whiskey?"

"Straight or on the rocks?" Whether he believed it or not, she could put her liquor away. But, of course, she'd tamed her intake after the DUI, but that didn't mean she didn't still enjoy a glass now and again.

"Uh, straight, please," Grissom answered in bewilderment.

She returned from the kitchen with two tumblers, handing one to Grissom. She took up position next to him, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Okay, what are you saying?"

Grissom shrugged, savouring the sweet woodiness, the deep, complex texture of the whiskey on his tongue and lips. "We both know I've waited long, too long, to do something 'about _this.'_ And what you said made me realise that certain truths ... things about myself that I'd rather not have confronted."

Sara looked at his face. The blue eyes were not seeking out hers, the gentle brows pushing themselves so far over his eyes that they threatened to engulf them completely. "Like what?"

Grissom shrugged. "My sadistic streak. The need for control that I have, but wished I didn't have. The fact that I have treated you in such an abhorrent manner," he spat out.

Sara took a deep breath. _Now or never._ "Grissom?"

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head sideways to look at her. "Hmm?"

"Would you like to ...?"

"Have dinner with you? Yes."

"That's, uh, that's not what I had in mind." She absent-mindedly ran a finger around the rim of her glass.

"Okay. What then?"

"Would. You. Like. To. Make. Love. To. Me?" She closed her eyes in embarrassment, trying to avoid his curious gaze.

"Um ... I'm flattered that you've asked that ...".

"But?"

"But what happens when we wake up? Because I won't be able to pretend nothing happened. And it _will_ hurt if _you_ do. I mean, what will you think when you wake up in my arms and see me there in the cold light of day, greying, stocky, old ...".

Sara stifled a laugh. "Why are you being so dramatic? And why are you being so self-deprecatory? What's making you so insecure?"

"I'm not good enough for you," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"I think 'm the person to make _that_ evaluation. I think you're _very_ good for me."

"I should get a say in the decision, too. I care about you, I don't wanna see you get hurt."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Maybe you should have said that sooner, 'cause right now, the hurt I've felt for three or four years is telling me that what you just said is _bullshit._"

"I care," he repeated.

"That's _it_?"

"Hell no. I more than care. But with the sort of relationship we have, my feelings, both emotional and south-pointing ...".

Sara smiled.

"Are inappropriate."

"Really? How so?"

"If you want something more, you gotta tell _me._"

"Fine then." She reddened slightly. "You wanna how inappropraite _my_ feelings are? I keep having this fantasy about you and me in a shower, together, washing off a decomp with lemon juice. Every time I smell lemons now ..." she trailed off, not sure where to look.

Grissom swallowed, feeling his heartbeat rev aggressively. "I think an awful lot about that limo we processed. You know, when you got angry at being passed over for the promotion? I can't say exactly what happens, but let's say it's _very_ inappropriate."

"So?"

"I want to make love to you," he whispered hoarsely."

"I'm all yours."

TBC

WHAT DID I SAY? I THOUGHT I MIGHT HAVE TO CONTINUE THIS. THAT MEANS THERE'S PROBABLY ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT.


	3. Chapter 3

THIS WAS WRITTEN TO THE SOUND OF JEFF BUCKLEY, SPECIFICALLY 'GRACE' AND 'LOVER, YOU SHOULD'VE COME OVER.' SEE IF YOU CAN SEE THE INFLUENCE. THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO HAS REVIEWED, AND NOT JUST ON THIS FIC - THIS (AGAIN) IS FOR YOU, I GRATELY APPRECIATE YOUR SUPPORT.

Her bedroom was cool and light, at odds with the rest of the apartment. There were only two shelves in here, the top one stacked with books, the bottom home to four picture frames, taking Grissom on a visual time travel - Sara at birth, when she was ten, when she was twenty, when she was thirty. There was a small bedside table, a clock and the police scanner perched on it.

"I know, I still have that thing," she said shyly, seeing his gaze flick from the scanner to her. "It does come in useful. I figured you were wrong about me needing a life. I got one, and you weren't happy about it, and _I _wasn't all that happy about it ...". She trailed off, her mouth lifting into a shrug.

"I wasn't wrong, I ... I just neglected to tell you that maybe that life should have been with me." His eyes were sombre, and she knew he wasn't joking.

"Oh, shit," she murmured, overwhelmed by a sudden surge of emotion.

Grissom swiftly stepped up to her and pulled her gingerly into his arms. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry," he gushed into her ear. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," she replied, gathering her thoughts and her breath. "You just ... I wasn't expecting that," she admitted.

Grissom could see that her walls were down, and before she had a chance to compose herself properly, he dipped his head, and tenderly touched his lips to hers. "Were you expecting that?"

Sara bit back a laugh. "No, I wasn't." She returned his gesture, applying slightly more pressure than he had done.

Grissom sucked in his breath, pulling away. He regarded her as he might do a piece of evidence - something that demanded his whole and complete attention and dedication. He kissed her properly this time, his mouth openeing against hers. As she became more receptive to the kiss, he could taste the whiskey on her lips, the soft, sweet tang, and it was strangely arousing. "Is this what you want? Definitely?" The whisper was throaty, filled with passion, but also tinged with yearning and need.

Sara sensed his turmoil. "I want this," she replied, firmly but softly.

"Do you have anything ... anything I can use?" His cheeks reddened as Sara pulled away and inspected his expression.

Tenderly, she reached out and caressed his cheek. "No. But I'm using the contraceptive patch. We'll be safe," she said affirmatively. Catching Grissom's frown, she smiled. "Honestly, we'll be okay." To initiate contact again, she reached out, and with shaky hands, proceded to unbutton his shirt.

It was Grissom's turn to smile. "You okay?" he asked gently, his hands dropping to her waist. Sara's gaze followed the big paws, so soft and gentle, so protective. She remembered how safe they felt when he had comforted her time and again, what they felt like when he absent-mindedly touched the small of her back, as he so often did.

"Y-yeah," she croaked, eyes closing in reflection. Her hands steadied, and she pulled open his shirt to reveal a broad, hairless, muscled chest. She ran a hand over it, making him shudder, then smoothed the shirt from his shoulders, taking hold of his arms and pulling him to her, backing towards the bed. They kissed again, his gentle hands carefully relieving her of her clothes. "I never thought this would ever ...".

He considered her carefully, noting the brown hair spread out like a halo on the white duvet cover. "Yes?"

"Have you just done what I think you've done?"

He said nothing, simply smiling in response, going on to cover her body in kisses.

Grissom blinked several times when he awoke, adjusting his sight to the gentle rays of lights that were penetrating Sara's blinds. They fell on her, making her look like some divine, but equally sensual, bewitching angel. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from her face, smiling to himself contentedly. He propped his hand under his head, the other one resting on the duvet where it covered Sara's hip.

Sara felt something on top of the covers, could instantly feel eyes boring into her face, her soul. "That you, Gil?" she yawned sleepily.

"No-one else it could be, honey," he replied. "You sleep well?" He shuffled closer, feeling the heat radiating from her body.

"Mmm, yeah," she answered, a sly grin permeating her features. She could smell him, his scent and musk gently invading her nostrils. "You?"

He nodded, the hand on her hip slipping around towards the back of her body. "I know you fantasised about other things, but did you ever dream about that?" He was genuinely curious, the question not appearing to be a way of serving his own ego.

Sara though for a moment. "To be honest, I was so horny most of the time, I never really thought about anything that loving and gentle," she answered frankly. "But if I _had_ have considered that, I would never have dared hope. I wouldn't have wanted to be disappointed if I were wrong."

Grissom couldn't quite fathom her meaning. "I didn't disappoint you, did I?" He started to panic. He had so badly wanted to show her how he _really_ felt, had ached so much to make her feel special.

She caught the anguish in his eyes and quelled it by lifting his hand from her bottom and kissing it, her lips caressing the warm, strong fingers. "I've never been made to feel so ...". She struggled to find words. "You made me feel like the only person in the world."

"You _are_ the only person in the world. For me, at least." He reached out and touched her cheek, its rosy glow warming his fingers.

Sara blushed at his words. All the years he had dropped hints, flirted, shared close moments with her, her all the time thinking he maybe loved Catherine, or Terri. A realisation had hit her while they were making love - the reason he was so comfortable around other women, much more so than he ever was with her, was because he didn't _feel_ anything for them. His feelings for them weren't threatening - but for _Sara_ - even though he had been gentle with her, she could sense something, an inner rage, maybe just catharsis from all the years of sexual frustration, and she admired him for really not_ properly_ pinning her down to that bloody, icky bedsheet when she'd asked him, fucking her ruthlessly.

"What you thinking?" he asked, blue eyes twinkling.

"Wondering about your amazing restraint," she replied. She ran a hand through his mussed-up curls, noticing the colour of his eyes turning almost dark grey, or teal, when highlighted by his beard. Then she ran a hand over the scruff, making him shudder again. "I'm good at making you do that," she teased.

"Well, I can certainly name a few things I made _you_ do last night," he countered, shocking both of them with his frankness. "So, after last night ... do you still think there's a future for us?"

"Hell, yes," she replied emphatically. "Besides, if I gave up a guy as good as you in bed, there'd have to be something wrong with me," she added.

Grissom smiled. "Aside from the sex, I mean," he explained. "Even though I know you're only teasing."

"Honestly? I want you even more than I did before."

"Good." His eyes lightened, sparkling more than ever. "And if you think you're the only one good at teasing, think again," he added in a sinister tone, turning on to his stomach and bracing his arms on either side of her shoulders.

"I look forward to it," Sara said, smiling.

"You won't be saying that later."

"Oh?"

"You'll be begging me to stop," he growled, sending shivers through them both.

THE END


End file.
